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The music stopped as the song ended. Their laughter died as well, and they stood far too close, staring at each other.
Madeline released his hand and her grip on his neck and eased back. Nolan had to consciously force his hand to slide from her lower back.
“Thank you for the dance,” she said in a breathless, enticing tone he’d never heard from the independent, tough, and sometimes intimidating member of parliament.
“It was my pleasure,” he said back, his voice so rough and husky he hardly recognized it.
She smiled and then whirled away. He watched her go. Her pale blue dress molded beautifully to her curves, and her blonde hair looked like silk.
“King Papa?” Sunny’s little voice came from knee level. “You can ask me if you may please have this dance now.”
Nolan chuckled, bent down, and replied, “Princess Sunny. May Ipleasehave the honor of this dance?”
As the affirmative answer came in her darling voice, he swooped the little angel into his arms. They swirled around the room, and he laughed and enjoyed every moment of the dance with his granddaughter. The only time he got distracted was when he caught Madeline watching him, smiling at him and Sunny. There was something different about her smile. She was as confused by their connection as he was.
It was best to put it all from his mind. He was not interested in dating or ‘moving on’ as everyone seemed to think he should be. The dance had been exhilarating and unexpected, but his plan was to focus on his growing family and his flourishing kingdom.
William and Treven Rindlesbacher were dead, and Naomi was in hiding. Guaranteed Naomi would recruit more loyal cronies and strike again. He needed no more stress in his life than was already heaped on his shoulders with the everyday responsibilities of running a kingdom, and learning how to navigate the process with a new prime minister to boot.
He was not interested in Madeline Prescott.
Not interested.
But for some reason, he couldn’t get her sparkling emerald eyes and the tingling feel of her out of his mind.
ChapterOne
Seven MonthsLater
Madeline Prescott kept her spine straight and her chin tilted as if she were the royalty as she thanked the guard who opened the ten-foot wooden castle door for her, leaving the warm July weather outside and entering the gorgeous, light-filled, and spacious castle. She handed her suitcase to another guard, not sure if he’d hold on to it or put it in one of the guest suites, and followed the guard who’d brought her up from the barricade at the edge of Greenville Village. The village was nestled at the edge of the lake and the mountainside, below the towering and imposing castle of the royal family of Augustine. Her fellow parliament member, Joseph Aritheline, had dropped her off. She didn’t appreciate his parting words of caution. “Don’t fall for the king when you owe me a date.”
Silly. She wasn’t falling for anyone, and she didn’t need to date Joseph or any of the dozen other men who asked. The last man she’d granted a few dates, Roger Pitcher, had used her to try to kill the king and the entire royal family and their guests at Prince Malik and Sophie’s wedding. With her track record, she should swear off men completely.
But King Nolan … The confident, enticing, and revered king.
She sucked in a breath, prayed for strength, and gave herself a stern talking to.
You’re tough. You’re brave. He’s only the king. He’s not attractive. His blue eyes are not magnetic. He’s not fun to tease with. Dancing with him seven months ago did not fill you with delicious tingles, mess with your level mind, or change your life’s trajectory. King Nolan won’t hate you when you reveal why you’re here. You have no need of any man but Chad in your life.
Her heels clicked on the granite floor as she clung to the strap of the large purse slung over her shoulder and almost believed her pep talk. She was wearing her favorite business suit—dusty pink, knee length with short sleeves to showcase how hard she worked to stay fit at fifty-three years old. She’d heard many times from far too many men that the suit flattered her and made her emerald green eyes pop. The tailored suit helped her feel feminine, attractive, successful, and powerful all at the same time.
Powerful? She wasn’t powerful. Not compared to the king of Augustine. He reminded her of Russell Crowe inGladiator—strong, brave, and irresistible. King Nolan August could hurl her out of his gorgeous castle, especially with the strength she’d seen in his chest and felt as she’d touched his perfect shoulder while they danced. He could have her arrested or worse, tell her he would never love anyone but his beautiful, ideal, and angelic deceased wife.
Stop, she commanded herself. None of that talk was helping her nerves at all. The king was too gracious to arrest her or kick her out, though anyone would be angry at the message she brought and the emissary mission she’d volunteered for. In her defense, she was protecting him from worse emissaries. Or was she selfishly wanting him all to herself?
The dreams of him noticing her as a woman were unrealistic and should never be on her radar. King Nolan had loved Queen Anne deeply, as had the entire royal family and country. He’d never even attempted a date in the eighteen months since his beloved wife had died.
He and Madeline had shared that one incredible dance at Prince Tristan and Jennifer Shule’s wedding. Any woman would have felt swept off their feet that night. Was it even possible to be at that romantic royal wedding, in the insanely gorgeous ballroom, asked to dance by the illustrious and handsome king, and not fall in love?
She rolled her eyes. It wasn’t love. Goodness. She doubted King Nolan even remembered the way their gazes had connected, the tension that had crackled between them, the way both of them had stumbled over their words, and his sweet compliments. There was no way he had noticed, or would ever notice, Madeline the way she noticed him. Since their dance, he’d been warm, cordial, and bantered with her when she teased him. Just like normal. Normal was good. Why did she want more than normal with the king, of all people? Impossible.
The royal guard rapped on the door to the king’s office. Not the receiving room. Why had the king wanted her to come to his office? Simply busy, or did he want a more intimate setting?
“Please enter,” King Nolan called in that deep, inspiring voice that sent tendrils of longing down her spine.
He was commanding and inspiring in all the right ways. She had to stop herself from fantasizing about their dance. It had been eighteen months that he’d been widowed, but it was common knowledge that the king had no intention of moving on or dating anyone. Not for a shortage of options, certainly. She’d watched videos of him climbing out of his Lamborghini, power, confidence, and charm clinging to him as he moved. He could take control of parliament with one well-spoken line. She’d never forget watching him dance with his adorable granddaughter Sunny—tender and alluring.
What woman wouldn’t be interested in the king? Maybe that was why he claimed no interest in dating, to keep all the women at bay. She couldn’t blame him.
